


A Penny For Your Thoughts, £400 For Your Meal

by bonn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, inspired by that 70s show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:57:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9667019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonn/pseuds/bonn
Summary: 8:50. Avery glances at the bill and goes down to his car to retrieve his conveniently forgotten wallet.8:59. Malfoy goes down to see what’s keeping him.9:29. Nott slips out to answer an important call.9:44. Mulciber dons his coat to take a piss.9:51. Severus excuses himself for a quick fag, and Lily is left sitting alone at their table with a growing sense of suspicion.9:53. Lily finally convinces herself to look at the bill, and her stomach drops to her knees.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my drafts on my computer for at least 18 months lol
> 
> xoxo gossip bonn

8:50. Avery glances at the bill and goes down to his car to retrieve his conveniently forgotten wallet.

8:59. Malfoy goes down to see what’s keeping him.

9:29. Nott slips out to answer an important call.

9:44. Mulciber dons his coat to take a piss.

9:51. Severus excuses himself for a quick fag, and Lily is left sitting alone at their table with a growing sense of suspicion.

9:53. Lily finally convinces herself to look at the bill, and her stomach drops to her knees.

11:41. “Ma’am?” the waitress asks, and Lily was sure she’d seen the worst of the girl’s frown, but she was wrong.

“A-another glass, please,” she mumbles, and the waitress’ eye roll and impatient huff says it all. There are eight or nine completely full glasses in a little grove in front of her already, and she doesn’t _exactly_ have a plan of action, but at least this is buying her more time.

 _She’s_ buying herself more time, with money she doesn’t have.

“Of course,” the waitress spits, and sweeps away.

This close to midnight, Lily’s fairly confident they’d like to shut up shop shortly. She tears her eyes away from the frankly excessive amount of wine sitting full in front her, and glances around the previously bustling dining hall. She almost, _almost_ pegs herself as the last diner, but there’s a man about her age on the other side of the room. He has a dozen or so desserts scattered around him, each as untouched as every one of her wine glasses. He gives her a tight smile as they make eye contact, and turns back to his food, pensive. Lily does the same.

She could call Petunia, but the thought of being a _further_ £250 in debt to her sister’s beastly husband is even less appealing than the prospect of management throwing her into a cellar and skinning her alive.

The waitress returns with a glass of chardonnay or something else Lily has never _quite_ liked, and places it down on the table with a little too much force. They both watch the spillage seep into the tablecloth for a moment, then the waitress strides off in a huff.

A part of Lily still hopes for the return of one of her party, though she knows it’s a lost cause. She should have expected it – Severus’ new friends aren’t exactly the honourable type. This is, she realises with a horrific dawning, the only reason she was invited at all. _Exams-are-over celebration my arse_.

She deserves this, doesn’t she? Mary and her used to do the exact same thing on double dates that went wrong. God, they didn’t even have to speak to know when to excuse themselves, they’d just share a look that said ‘oi, this is a bit shit, isn’t it?’ and they’d bolt.

She’s been doing the maths over and over in her head for the last hour and twenty minutes, and even with the hundred pounds in her account, the seventy five in her wallet isn’t going to cut it. How the _fuck_ did Severus’ mates manage to rack up the cost to four hundred pounds? Did they order their food laced with cocaine?

“Miss, you need to pay. _Now_ ,” the waitress hisses, and she’s flanked by the entire serving staff.

“Yes,” Lily agrees faintly. “Yes, of course, you’re absolutely right,” and the noose tightens around her neck, “I just – my friends all left, you see, they thought it was funny, I suppose, and I don’t have quite enough to cover the bill, so if you’ll let me call my sister so she can…” Whatever the opposite of convincing is, Lily is apparently it, because her waitress looks thoroughly unimpressed with the story. _It’s true_ , Lily wants to yell, _I’m not making this up!_

“If you won’t pay,” and Lily notes the use of the word _won’t_ rather than _can’t_ , “I’m going to have to call the police.”

“Is there a problem?” and Lily just about jumps out of her skin as she whips around to see who it is. It’s the man with the desserts, apparently having made his decision, finally on his way out. “Are you short on your bill?”

Lily gives a small nod, cheeks burning, trying not to let the gravity of the whole situation crush her. Her humiliation is up to her neck, her chin, her ears, she’s drowning, oh god is she drowning. They’re going to call the police, and she’s going to go to prison, and she’s never going to get hired, because what school’s going to hire a twenty-three year old with a criminal record?

“I clearly can’t let you call the police on her,” the man says, and shoots Lily an honest to god _winning smile_. “Look, she’s distraught. Add her bill to mine.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Lily says, automatically, and _god_ , Lily _, why can’t you let your morals go for twenty fucking seconds_?

She couldn’t see him properly from the other side of the hall, but up close he’s quite a looker, with rectangular glasses perched carelessly on his long, thin nose, and thick black hair that’s just _begging_ to be played with, and _stop it, Lily_.

“I’m not paying for your meal, I’m spotting you the money, and you’ll pay me back when you can. Add it to my bill,” he says to the waitress, and her expression softens at his insistence.

“Of course, sir,” she says, and he could be made of sunshine by the way she looks at him.

“I mean, it’s not your fault your friends dined and dashed on you,” he’s saying, and Lily snaps back to attention, “and I _have_ the money.” His hazel eyes twinkle and maybe he _is_ made of sunshine.

“Are you absolutely sure?” She grabs his elbow as he begins to reach into his coat pocket, “One thousand percent sure?”

“One thousand and ten percent sure,” he assures her, and she smiles despite herself.

“Alright,” she laughs. “Alright.”

“James,” he says, and she takes his long fingered hand, wondering vaguely if he’s any good at piano.

“Lily.”

“Excellent. Beatrice, add Lily’s bill to mine.”

The server nods as she takes his credit card, and James turns back to Lily. “I say we down this wine as soon as, then we can get out of here before Bea sells us to some shoddy black-market op. What were you planning on doing with it all, anyway?” he says, taking a sip of whatever was closest to him, and grimacing.

“Well,” and her face burns red, “I was sort of hoping if I stalled for long enough, one of them would come back.”

“Not very good friends, are they?”

“They’re not actually my friends,” Lily admits.

“Ah yes, a phenomenon I know well. I get invited to dinner then everyone drifts out without me noticing because oh, James’ll pick up the bill. James is frankly quite sick of it,” and something in his tone pushes his accent from upper class to _posh_.

“If you knew they weren’t coming back, why’d you order so many deserts?”

“Ah,” he starts, his brown cheeks darkening considerably. “Yes, that. A friend of mine adores the desserts they do here, and I couldn’t decide which he’d like best. I’d just made up my mind to take them all, because I have another pair of friends who’ll eat the left overs anyway, doesn’t matter, I’m rambling. Anyway, I was on the way out, and I saw you were sitting alone, and, and I assure you I mean this in the least creepy possible way, I had to make sure you weren’t about to get arrested.”

“Which I was.”

“Which you were, so lucky thing I was here.”

“Lucky thing,” Lily agrees drily.

“I like to help out where I can. Beatrice,” he calls, and she reappears, holding his card. “Would it be possible to wrap up the desserts for Remus? Only he couldn’t make it tonight, unfortunately.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent. Now, Lily,” and he hands her a glass of wine, “if you drink it fast it barely tastes awful. Assuming, of course, that you have no objections to a bit of mild intoxication.” Lily takes the glass, clumsily, and she might have jumped out of her skin when their fingers brushed against each other just now. “Quickly, quickly, before Olivia gets too cross.”

They’re giggling when Beatrice reappears again, with an ornate box, which she refuses to hand to James, no matter how much he tries to grab it. “I’m sorry, sir. Olivia says I’ve got to personally deliver it to your car. She doesn’t want tiramisu all over the foyer. Again.”

James snorts loudly, and Lily can’t help but laugh along. She follows James, who follows Beatrice, who leads them out of the dining hall, and they’re halfway to the garage before Lily stops dead in her tracks. James spins around with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Severus drove me here.”

“Oh. Do you want me to drive you home?”

“You’ve just had five glasses of wine,” Lily points out, and James gives her this really _blank_ stare and _oh god_ , did she just hallucinate the entire thing? But dawning makes its way onto his face in an instant, and he laughs, bright and clear.

“I have a driver!” he laughs, and she smiles too, but it’s sort of like, _what the fuck_.

“You have a driver.”

“I don’t even know how to drive,” he says, frowning. This seems to be more for his own benefit than hers. “I’m _twenty-three_ and I can’t drive. What if I’m being chased by the police and I need to get away? I can’t!”

“You have a driver,” Lily says again, and he looks at her like he’s just remembered they were having a conversation.

“Yes.”

“You’re like, a prince, or something. Aren’t you?”

“Or something,” he says, eyes twinkling even when faced with her scrutiny.

“I don’t live that far away, honestly, I’ll just walk.”

“You’re going to walk, _alone_ , through London at half past midnight? No.”

“No?” Lily asks, raising an eyebrow dangerously.

“I’ll walk you. No, it’s fine! I’ll call an uber or something from your house. Settled, let’s go.”

“You don’t have to,” Lily says, but she’s already reaching for his hand.

“I want to,” and he’s leading the way onto the street. She turns to their left and he follows, dreadfully, tripping a wide arc to come back by her side. It’s almost a dance, _would be_ a dance (if they were a little more sober).

“How many times did that waitress call you sir? Like, _fuck_.”

“Happens a lot when people know you primarily for the size of your bank account.”

“How come you’re so rich, anyway? Everyone knows your mid-twenties are for being dirt poor!”

“Blame my parents. They were rich, ipso facto…”

“Were? What happened to their riches?”

“Nothing. The riches are fine, they’re just dead.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, they were old,” he says quietly, and she squeezes his hand, “I mean, I wish they weren’t dead, _obviously_ , but…”

“My dad died too,” Lily offers.

“Sucks, huh?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just pulls her closer when a group of teenagers leers at them, and she smiles softly at him. “I never knew this walk could be so nice,” she whispers, and he smiles back down at her. “I’d never have spoken to anyone like you, never in a million years.”

“Because I’m so intimidatingly handsome?”

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s definitely it. “

“I get it a lot. The only people who want to talk to me are other rich people and… well, I guess that _is_ how I met my best friend, actually, so it mustn’t be a completely bad thing.”

“You ramble, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

She laughs, and it strikes her that she’s done that a lot since she met him.

1:21. “I’m on the left here.” She drops his hand, but it’s only because her front gate requires both of hers to be opened. She stands in her tiny front garden, and she can’t think of anything funny or cool or witty say. “You’re good company.”

“Good you think so, because you’re going to be seeing a lot of me from now on.” Lily frowns, confused. James cottons on, and grins. “I know where you live, and you owe me about 400 quid. And, of course, you’re really quite pretty.” She kisses him without really thinking, but it’s _right_ , him bracing himself on her gate as he leans forward to meet her, and her backlit by her porch light.

They break apart when the most expensive car the neighbourhood’s ever seen pulls up to the kerb. “You had your car follow us?” she asks.

He just smiles, a broad and honest thing, and steps backwards, reaching into his pocket. “This is going to be the worst thing I’ve ever done, but here’s my number.” He hands her a card.

A _business_ card.

“Oh my god,” she says, turning it over in her hand. He kisses her again, and disappears into the car. She waves as he speeds off, and looks back down at the card.

_James Potter, Potter Industries_

She laughs – of _course_ he’s James Potter. The laugh echoes down the now-empty street, and Mary’s light flicks on upstairs.

“That you, Lil?” she shouts out the window.

“Yeah!”

“You alright?” Her head pokes through the lace curtain, concern apparent on her face. “You sound like a loon.” Lily just laughs, laughs as she pulls out her key. “Lil?” Mary calls down the stairs as the door clicks shut.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m great Mare. I’m on cloud fucking nine.”


End file.
